


Cavalry

by nelliecrain (orphan_account)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barrel racing, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Equestrian, Horses, M/M, dressage, hux just wants everything to be perfect, poe is an adrenaline junkie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 21:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nelliecrain
Summary: Dressage rider Armitage Hux, while training his new mare Starkiller, runs into the reckless barrel racing adrenaline junkie Poe Dameron.





	1. Starkiller and Armitage

Starkiller’s path was smooth and unbroken, her circles a clear pattern as she closed in around the arena and turned in on her left leg, coming to divide the arena in two with one straight line down the center. At G, she stumbled in her stop, and her rider sighed a dismayed response, clicking and shuffling the reins slightly to guide her backwards toward the center. 

“Once more,”

She returned to G, this time coming to a full stop, ears pricked up as her rider began to guide her shoulder in to her left, giving pressure liberally as she began to cross her legs to the side in a well executed half-pass.

“Well done, Starkiller,” he hummed, letting up on the reins and rubbing one hand in a circle across her upper shoulder. The warmblood huffed out a sigh, tension escaping her tried muscles. 

But neither horse nor rider were done yet. He straightened out, began a second lateral pass to her right, took a gradual circle around the corners of the arena and nudging her into a speedy pace, so that he could feel each pair of feet hit the dampened sand with quick succession. 

He rocked rapidly from side-to-side as her body hit the ground on each side, forcing him to gather some of her dark mane in his hands, hugging closer to her neck despite the negative impact on his posture, and the resulting slack in her reins as he took her around the arena.

As soon as the pair slowed, he gave her her reins, leaning forward to place a kiss on her crest and lean back in the saddle, unhooking his boots from the stirrups and exist in sync with her, feeling her heart beat rapidly with one hand on her neck. 

Her head drooped, stretching forward and pawing at the sand- a behavior he’d normally nullify, if not for their exercise being over.

“Come on, then,” 

They picked up their pace, keeping a steady response between her feet and his pressure, telling her how to continue on as they went from a walk to a trot. He could feel her pace change, from four-beat to two-beat, clicking softly and nudging at her flank until two-beat changed to three-beat, hearing as well the drum-like pattern. Three thumps as her hooves hit the earth, and a rest, and then the pattern continued. He braced at each impact, better not to rock himself too hard and become uncomfortable. When she stretched herself out a bit more as he let up on the reins, he brought her down to a walk once more, finishing her last circles and cutting through one corner to take a short-cut to the center, finishing down the middle and letting Starkiller stop at her own pace. 

He could feel the tension released with the licking at her teeth, not releasing any air but drooping down and letting her ears swivel around, listening to her rider.

Armitage Hux dismounted swiftly, guiding his reins over Starkiller’s, gripping underneath her chin and giving a click to start down toward the gate.

She was a dapple grey, a beautiful creature of toned muscle and sleek, soft flank. Her mane, tied in button-braids, was an inky black to match the dark hues of her body. She took on the dark aspects of her father, an experienced prix horse whom Starkiller seemed to take after. She, too, was ruthless in competition, unwilling to back down, but pliant to her rider- one half of the equation that would rise up above her adversaries, never failing to come out on top, or so Armitage had faith.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and his left hand gave her a pat on the velvet of her nose, earning a toss of her head, forelock flopping over one side of her head. 

He would only accept the best, and Starkiller was the best. Though relaxed when allotted, she was a killer in the arena- even if she still had her rough patches. Armitage knew he would meticulously go over her failures this session, sand them down to compliance in future practice to be above all competition in her event career. 

* * *

Armitage had finished putting up her tack when he noticed a familiar lumbering shape lingering past the shadowed door of the tack shed.

“ _Ben_.” Armitage snapped, hand settling on the soft leather of Starkiller’s saddle. “Ben, damnit, you’re being a nuisance.”

The other rider was like a looming darkness, in everything he carried with him. From his heavy Friesian gelding who though not surpassing Starkiller in speed, was far stronger and better built. 

Sometimes, Armitage became in awe at the connection between Ben Solo and Knight. Like an invisible thread that connected their minds, something unspoken seemed to pass between the horse and rider. It was a jealousy that caused Armitage’s shock at the mental closeness between the two. It was like he barely needed to ask Knight to do anything, the gelding would do it with little to no prodding or prompting. 

“That’s not my name.” The other’s voice was deeper, almost husky, as he stepped into Armitage’s view in the shed.

Armitage’s nose wrinkled in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he looked down at the other like vermin. And to Armitage, he was. Ben Solo didn’t belong here, not at this Center, and not in the English discipline. He was a disgrace to everything composed about the sport. 

After all, he did come from a Western background. It only made sense he’d always be a dirty, rag-tag Western boy. 

(Not that that didn’t make Hux incredibly enamored, but Ben had proved himself to be nothing more than a trouble boy; and nothing that meshed well with Hux’s composure and standoffish tendencies.)

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Armitage prompted, angrily, words nearly spat at the other.

“I’m using the arena tomorrow.” Ben finally replied. And there was no question in that phrase; only statement; and Armitage was not going to argue.

Instead, he seethed, silently, privately. “Learning how to turn-in?” The rider muttered sharply, folding his hands behind his back and pushing past Ben, into the stable rows, careful to bump into the other’s arm as he went.

Only an inch separated the two in height, which honestly gave Armitage a little relief. His own superiority complex crashed uncomfortable with Ben’s need for validation; his need for guidance and affection. Armitage was above soft relationships. Ben was either bloodthirsty and aggressive, or emotional and lost, and there was no in-between. The lack of predictability threw Armitage off, and besides, they were too clashed to every share something more than this rivalry.

He could feel Ben’s eyes on his back as he crossed down the center of the stables. Eyes straight ahead, posture exact- just as if he was on Starkiller’s back. He wouldn’t give Ben any satisfaction. Even if Armitage’s usual workplace was now taken, taken by his self-proclaimed rival, he’d not give Ben a moment of his time being mad.

That is, unless Armitage could show him up or prove Ben’s stupidity.

 _I’ll take a trail ride,_  Armitage decided,  _clear our heads._

He glanced side-long at Starkiller as he passed her stall, her head hanging out atop the gate, gazing at him with a tired blink as he walked by.

She would be perfect, he’d be sure. She could only improve from here.

The only problem with trail rides was this. Trails were public, and public meant other people. There was nothing between him and the rest of the world, and the reckless riders of Leia’s ranch. Those he  _despised_. 

He could only hope his ride would be relaxed and without disruption.


	2. Poe and Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place one day after Ch1 <3

He didn't realize his mistake until he circled the fourth barrel, heart racing, sweat dampening the brim of his stetson as he held on for dear life to the leather reins sticking to his anxious hold on the bit. A call cut him short and on instinct, Poe pulled back, body relaxing to skid to a stop, red dirt spraying up around his golden bay's legs and spattering over her already muddied skin. In response, she pulled her head forward, and tossed back, making a sound akin to an irritated huff. 

But then again, he was prone to humanizing. 

" _What?_ " 

His boots kicked impatiently at Baby's stirrups, which she took as a cue to keep running, and Poe nearly flew forward as she started to take off- only stopping her moments after, and finding himself tilted forward with his nose inches from her braided main. 

This elicited a laugh from his onlooker, a laugh that though rarely earned was unforgettable. 

"I said 'you missed one'." Leia replied from the gate side of the pen. She was leaning up against the bars with both arms folded, greyed purple vest zipped to her chin, crowned braid neatly pinning up her hair. 

Yards away, Poe couldn't help but grin. "Sorry, mom," the racer responded, though his tone wasn't entirely serious. "What'd I miss?"

"Your third barrel, dumbass," while composed when leading the ranch, Poe could tell the shift in tone when her attention was on that of a friend; And not of an impressionable situation. "I know your patterns, Poe, I _drew_ them." That was true. She was far better, anyway. If left to his own devices, Poe would surely burn out both himself and Baby in no more than a handful of minutes. 

He gave her a toothy, lopsided grin. "Maybe so, Leia, but sometimes this girl's got a mind of her own!" He gave Baby a hearty pat to the shoulder, at which the Appaloosa gave a high-pitched whinny in response. Poe only smiled brighter.

Leia rolled her eyes, which Poe couldn't see from afar, but it was a gesture filled with affection. "Why don't you cool her down, hop off, and come help me in the tack shed." She gave a nod back toward the rest of the ranch, but Poe only shook his head.

"She's still antsy!" He protested, and as if to drive his point home Baby huffed- she had always been a noisy mare- tossing her head up and rattling her bridle. Poe barely tensed. They'd worked side-by-side for years, he could predict each action better than his own erratic mind. 

Leia only sighed. "Suit yourself, Dameron," 

Poe turned his attention to the mare beneath him as Leia disappeared down the hill that the arena resided on. 

"You're still full of energy, aren't you?" He cooed softly, affection in the way he rubbed her shoulder, made sure he was relaxed on the reins before giving her a kick, and sending off in a brisk jog.

It was around the arena once more before she picked up a trot, weaving in and out of the barrels marking Poe's turns. His posture seemed to match her gait; relaxed, but attentive. And as his focus sharpened, she responded in sync, kicking up dust and bucking her head as they made an abrupt change, hooves digging into the red clay dirt to kick into a heavy lope off toward the 'trailhead' of the barrel pattern. 

Poe couldn't contain his excitement, a whoop of adrenaline encouraging Baby as she raced alongside the fence, sliding to her left and beginning the path traced by a dozen hoof prints compressing the dirt.

She circled the first barrel, as soon as she turned out Poe gave the reins a tug to the side, pressing his heels into her ribs and feeling the response. He was obliged to sit deeper on the saddle, balancing weight to even her two-beat sprint toward the secondary barrel, whipping around and avoiding a near-slip on the three-quarter's-turn.

As soon as she made a loop to the third and first barrel, he was certain she'd gotten down the pace on her own, and so he loosened up the bit, hugging forward to grip her mane and angling his hip to push her to the right. A differing move than their usual marked run- he was testing her, to see if it would throw her off.

But Baby was no green horse- she adapted easily to his movements, letting Poe take the lead as he closed contact with his hip and shifted control to the reins. 

She snorted again as they circled the third barrel once more and he could feel a slight falter in her beat. He gave the reins a shake, clicking with his tongue over the loud beats of hooves on reddened earth. 

"C'mon Babe! Keep on!" 

The knock-up in speed threw him for a mild loop as she rapidly gained momentum- nearly missing the fourth barrel but making a well-adjusted shouldered turn toward the first one on her right side. Poe guided her across the side of the barrel and then pulled back, easing her to a stop as red sand sprayed up around her legs.

All the while, Poe failed to notice the uninvited onlooker watching from the overhead trail.


End file.
